altschmerz
by darlingdearestdoll
Summary: n. weariness with the same old issues that you've always had — the same boring flaws and anxieties you've been gnawing on for years, which leaves them soggy and tasteless and inert, with nothing interesting left to think about, nothing left to do but spit them out and wander off.
1. a beginning to it all

• **altschmerz**

::: **n.** weariness with the same old issues that you've always had — the same boring flaws and anxieties you've been gnawing on for years, which leaves them soggy and tasteless and inert, with nothing interesting left to think about, nothing left to do but spit them out and wander off to the backyard, ready to dig up some fresher pain you might have buried long ago:::

– _The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows_ –

 **Rated: T for kissing, smoking, sexual content, religious reference, implied (underaged?) sex, twincest, cursing, violence, death, and lyrics overuse :)**

 **Summary:** It's either he dies, or she dies, or both of them die. Over and over again. {What a sickening cycle.}

 **Author's Note:** Stories based on Len and Rin's songs. The backgrounds are as canon as possible :)

I actually searched for the _altschmerz_ word in the dictionary and… Well, funny enough, I found nothing. None whatsoever XD What the heck now? XD

Anyway, this fanfic has a theme word… But, (yes, there is a 'but' here. Hey don't look at me like that XD) I'm not gonna give you that… and you will have to read the whole thing to actually see it XD Not gonna give it here, nope, nuh-uh XD Weellllll, actually I was going to, but then Piri (God bless her :3) pointed out that the Japanese word I left there was actually wrong and in the end ultimately saved me from both humiliating myself and a grade that is lower than an A- :3

…

I seriously considered dropping this thing – like, not once, not twice, but everyday. Not even exaggerating… This has been lying in my document for a good four months and everytime I open the file I sigh. Then process to write yet another one-shot. Yeah. I'm weird like that XD

If you ask my opinion about this, this one-shot is one hell of a lengthy fanfic XD You may or may not even find different writing styles in the thing... Despite it being write by one person - yours truly here XD XD Oh, and it's pretty inconsistent too XD And from the first part to the third one, it's really child play XD The others are, well… decent, I guess? :3 Can only hope that things turn out OK in the end :3

 **Edit: Major changes in the last part, and the thing is cut into a two-shots instead of one huge, frustrating word vomit XD**

 **Dedicated:** This fanfic is dedicated to **N** **erumi H** :3 Kelsey-san, if you are reading this, I just want to thank you for everything that if I even bothered to list out, those things would make a whole essay… Anyway, this thing is probably child play for you, but please please please bear with me :3 :3 It's a piece of crap, aahhh XD But at least it's a nice (at least I hope so… :3) piece of crap with ribbons and decorated paper… I hope? XD

 **Credits:** All credits go to my impossibly awesome beta–reader, **Piriluk** :3 How I always managed to have wonderful beta–readers is beyond my comprehension… Maybe I'm just lucky? XD Piri–san, thank you :3

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Vocaloid. I don't even own the lyrics or this plot bunny DX Though, I do own my alternative universe :3 :3**

 **Warning: This fiction describes people, places, events, or contains complete narrative works derived from imagination, and therefore Len and Rin's relationship in this is solely my interpretation. If you don't find it enjoyable, please kindly and quietly leave. Your noble action will be greatly appreciated. You have been warned.**

* * *

物語は既に神と悪魔の手を離れて独り歩き

 **The Story has already left the hands of God and the Devil, and it's walking on its own.**

– MA in _Capriccio Farce_

* * *

" _ **The serpent deceived me, and I ate**_ _."_

 _Bible had said so, forever deemed her as the Original Sinner, naively fooled by the snake._

 _What it didn't say, is that Eve had fallen for the Devil. Hard._

 _That was the truth behind everything. She disregarded God, disregarded her husband, and indulged in delicious, forbidden (poisonous, poisonous, poisonous) affair. A sicksicksick little secret. And if this was wrong, then who wanted to be right again?_

" _ **I think— I think when it's all over, it just comes back in flashes, you know? It's like a kaleidoscope of memories, but it just all comes back.**_ "

" _ **And... crazy thing is, I don't know if I'm ever gonna feel that way again. But I don't know if I should. I knew his world moved too fast and burned too bright.**_ "

" _ **But I just thought... How can the devil be pulling you towards someone who looks... so much like an angel when he smiles at you? Maybe he knew that, when he saw me.**_ "

 _Spiraling down and down and down, the forbidden fruit led their (her?) way out of the Garden. The Devil smirked, a hint of triumph gleamed wickedly on thin lips._

 _He had the last laugh on God. (Desire will always overrule morality, he had proved it, rubbed it in God's face, an evidence that could never be deleted, a shame on everything.) And what's the point, anyway? What did the snake gain from giving the girl an apple? He got to spit on God. Got to laugh in the Almighty's face as he smirked and smiled and laughed and laughed and laughed."Desire will always win over what's right. Always."_

 _But was it...fair? To take down this sweet little Goddess in the process of trying to break away at God's unbreakable armor?_

 _(What he would never say, however, is that he had fallen just as hard for the miss_ _**Péché Originel**_ _.)_

 _Wise words proposed that every story is a love story. And this was no exception._

 _They were both abandoned. Out of Eden, out of Paradise. The original sins were sealed away safely in another being – another Eve (Another corrupted woman, another wicked nymph, another, there is always_ _**another**_ _.)_

 _But that just wasn't enough. Wasn't enough of a punishment (revenge, payback…) for God to be satisfied, for the serpent and Eve to suffer, for the shame he deemed unforgivable._

 _They were reborn. A pair of immortal twins. To watch, to hate, to be_ _**humiliated**_ _by each other. (Just like their nasty humiliation directed at the Creator.)_

 _Levia and Behemo. A cross–dressing male and a grumpy female. (They were called gods, how ironic.)_

 _Yet, despite their fate, their path, everything, they still found it in themselves to dwell deeper and deeper in their salvation._

 _And then they got tired of this life. Never ending, repeating over and over and over again._

 _(They said repetition is maddening.)_

 _They wanted a part, a piece of that same sweetsinfulsickening fruit, a piece of redemption._

 _Pursuing relentlessly for a chance. Wrecking havoc. Threatening. Doing anything to be reborn again, as mortals._

 _A pair of twins. Hansel and Gretel._

* * *

He took note of her face lit up dimly by pale moonlight; crimson colour trickling from the base of her hairline, dyeing pure gold tresses a sickening maroon shade. Maroon, he grimly thought, didn't suit her. It was far too dark and too unfitting to her cheerful attitude and her bright–colored clothes – albeit tattered and dirtied, no doubt from all the running in the forest. Her feet slapped the dried ground, harmonizing with his own pace perfectly. Dry, stiff dead leaves crunched beneath their feet; the sound harsh and listless.

The boy shoved away branches sticking out, clearing a small walking path. Their sharp ends pricked at his skin, scratching small annoying cuts, and he barely acknowledged the injuries adding up.

The weak grip on the hem of his shirt made him turn and look his twin in the eyes.

Her lips were pulled up in a small smile, an attempt to look happy – which was futile, because he could already detect the crystalline unshed tears glowing on her eyelashes, threatening to break out at any moment.

"Hansel? Are we lost?"

He could always lie to her and say everything was alright, that he had the situation under control. But somehow, looking at her face – her trying to be brave – Hansel couldn't find it in himself to lie.

"Yes."

The boy had already prepared himself for any reaction his twin might give – a wail, a sob, disbelief, silence, everything. Comforting words had even been sorted out, readied on the tip of his tongue.

Instead, Gretel tilted her little head. Ocean–spray eyes stared at him with a determined look – a look he didn't expect from her, last of all when she was on the verge of bursting into tears.

"Is it because mother and father abandoned us?"

Silence was the only answer he could provide. But it was enough for her to come to a conclusion anyway.

She didn't say anything, opting to follow her brother obediently. Their labored breathing was the only sound that filled the air. Around his neck, a glass bottle glowed gently; golden moonlight clearing away blinding darkness, allowing the two to make out their way. Black and white colours mixed and blended together, creating a perfect picture of madness.

A pregnant pause, a brief hesitation, and then her voice broke out.

"Hey... does that mean she is the– the –" Gretel fumbled with her words, trying to find something accurate to verbalize her thoughts. The boy looked at her, waiting patiently. Finally, she gave up, "– bad woman, you know, in the stories? With dark magic and eating children?"

There it was. The weird determined gleam in her eyes, the one Hansel wasn't accustomed to. Gretel looked strange. Really strange.

The girl didn't say specifically who 'she' was, but a pronoun was enough for him to acknowledge who his twin referred to.

The first thing came to his mind was the word 'witch'.

At first, his mind couldn't wrap around the concept – it seemed foreign and strange and just plain impossible – wasn't Mother the one who took care of them? The one who gave birth to them? Their own flesh and blood?

But no mother was cruel and cold–hearted enough to abandon her own children. And he had seen his mother – no, not his mother anymore; from now on, he would stop considering her as his parent at midnights – saying weird words, brewing some liquids in the oven. His twin was asleep, peacefully unaware of the activity. Had it not been for his sudden thirst, Hansel would never have known it too. At first, he had thought it was a hallucination, created by his sleepy mind and half–lidded eyes, but after the fifth time coming upon the same scene, his suspicions were confirmed. Their mother was a witch.

He hadn't given the piece of information much thought, but now it came back to him again, under new light. Harsh truth and bitterness slapped him hard.

She must be a witch – and not a good one. A wicked one. And a witch, in every story he had read, would be killed.

Their mother must be someone else, and that tealette must have stolen them from her, he concluded.

"Yes," Hansel seethed quietly.

Her eyes glimmered.

Silence fell on them again.

Together, hand in hand, they followed the light to where it led – a house, a strikingly familiar one. Bright yellow light danced on their figures, illuminating the small, wooden house. A distinct fragrance soaked their nostrils, and Gretel hummed.

"That smells good..."

His suspicious mind snapped.

"Gretel, that is the witch's poison. She must be brewing it."

The girl covered her nose, and he nodded.

"Yep."

Quietly, they pushed open the wooden door. The cracking sound of old wood as they touched it was creepy – like there was something evil lurking in the dark corner, waiting, patiently waiting for them to fall prey in its trap.

The twins huddled closer together, drawing each other's warmth as reassurance that they were not alone, trying to make the fear go away.

Everything that happened next was a blur in his memory.

Hearing the telltale sound of door being opened, the witch turned to meet her unexpected guests. Her hand held a wooden spoon, still held up in the air in the middle of her action. _Oh, but she would never be able to continue her work again,_ the boy thought viciously.

Her eyes widened in surprise as they met them.

In a flash, Gretel was next to the tealette. Her eyes trickled with childish joy and determination, and with a forceful shove, the adult's body was fully drowned by liquid heat.

He could still see the teal–coloured hair in the midst of bright orange as Eve desperately struggled to escape. Hansel wanted to vomit – what a hideous scene. The scent of burnt flesh and skin violently forced its way up his nose. How disgusting. Her head occasionally poked out, gasping for air, skin painted in different shades of red, black and brown.

Horrendous was the sight.

He never expected his twin to kick the witch in the head; an innocent, triumphant smile gracing her lips. A merry voice called out:

"Mother, I have defeated this witch! Please praise me!"

Ah, so she did share the same thought with him – that their mother was a different person.

An inhuman scream ripped from the woman's throat, and this time, his twin, without an ounce of hesitation, dropped her unfinished pot of poison – or whatever it was in that pot – on her head.

The face disappeared behind metal pot and gray ash.

The kids then smiled serenely. Their task was completed.

Footsteps landed after footsteps. The sound of something hit the floor and they heard the sound of shocked gasps could be heard evidently. Slowly, they turned around...

...And saw a blue–haired man.

The first word that came to their minds was "father", but the twins quickly corrected it. The witch wasn't their mother, so this shouldn't be their father either?

Yeah. That was the witch's henchman. It made sense.

He must be evil too. After all, he was acquainted with that witch. Evil deserved punishment.

With that thought in his head, Hansel smiled.

The man stumbled back, taking sharp notice of the malicious look in the child's eyes. "What?! I thought –" His sentence was cut short as a knife went deep in the left side of his chest.

Hansel took immense pleasure in seeing the man's utter disbelief, in his pain and suffering. The blade kept on hitting the same spot again and again, blue eyes watching as red blood rolled down, pooling on the floor. Cries soon turned into wails of anguish, and the boy calmly silenced him with a quick, sharp cut to the throat.

While doing so, the voice of Gretel called out for him.

"Hansel! Look!"

"Hm?"

His words trailed off.

There, in soft, gray ash, there was something glistening. Something mild, gentle, moving relentlessly. Something teal.

 _What...?_

Drawing in a deep breath, the boy teetered closer towards the open oven, his steps shaky and the faded flame flickered merrily.

The sight made him want to throw up. Ignoring the woman's dead body, he focused, instead, on small dots of light. Instinctively, he waved his hand.

The dots immediately scattered away.

One flew in a purple flower. Another merged with a breeze. Mixed with the seeds. Reflected in a stone. Flowed in the spring. Disappeared in the soil. Clattered in the forest.

He watched them until they were away from his sight. Next to him, Gretel asked curiously.

"What were those?"

Hansel shrugged.

"Dunno. C'mon, let's get inside."

Two small frames joined hands together, slowly making their way out of the wooden house.

From the afar, God frowned. The sins were released, again, by the same sinners.

 _Everything comes with a price. Every action has to be judged, and every crime has to be punished._

* * *

 _And they were 'gods' no more, losing their immortality, following each other into the never–ending cycle of life. Death. Rebirth. Death. Rebirth._

 _They were family. They were lovers. They were strangers. Enemies. Acquaintances. They were each other's everything and nothing. They were one person and they were two completely different being. Two halves of a whole._

 _They stayed together till the end. They never met._

* * *

Her feet were bleeding, and she was choking on her own hot, crimson blood; a fragile marionette that didn't stop dancing and singing until it broke into million shards.

The sight of her hurt him – physically and mentally. Summoning every last bit of energy left in his exhausted body, he yanked himself up. Blackness stained his vision, and his head felt like it was being cracked open. The idea of lying down had never seemed this tempting before – just one minute, one minute would hurt nobody...

Len wanted to scold himself for even having that kind of thought – she was so near, so near that he could even feel her existence tingling on his skin, so near that just over there – a little bit more and he could finally reach her, his unknown twin sister; the phantom being that he'd been missing all his life, despite never getting to see her in real person. How could he rest when everything was _almost_ ended?

(Almost is the cruelest thing ever – and Len couldn't agree more.)

Footsteps. He could hear footsteps echoing on stony, blood–stained walls of this cave, drumming on his eardrums before it finally hit his delusional mind.

He could no longer hear her singing.

The thought frightened him for a moment, but the melodies continued just a second later; the gap so faint and short, bordering on the line of non–existence. Yet his sharp ears could pick out light gasp and small choking sound – Rin was out of breath, no doubt.

Frustration and desperation was infused in clear cerulean eyes, and he couldn't run to her fast enough.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Len was aware of red liquid trickling down his temple, coaxing the skin warm and sticky, and his nostrils could faintly make out the tangy, salty smell.

A faint, golden light streamed out from the unseen inside, the air practically ringing with magic – ancient, dark, cruel magic.

His eyes only trained out to see her. The girl so familiar, the girl sharing his same face – the one he'd never met but knew by heart, with such a beautiful, serene smile that burnt brightly in his mind every waking and sleeping moment. He'd never seen her in his life, but sure enough, that was his sister standing inches away from him.

Her hands spread out, almost like two wings ready to fly up any moment; long legs carved in a walking posture, standing on the tips of her toes. Pale white skin glowed in dim light. Golden tresses flowed down her slim back, white dress tainted with cuts and dirt –and even dried blood.

A faraway melody was still playing in his ears.

She didn't see him – but he saw her. Vulnerable and ethereal, exhausted and powerful. Her.

She was still dancing – her dress tattered, body stretched into graceful gestures, each pose stiff, but her movements were nimble. Her hand raised daintily, fingers waving in the air within a slow movement. Blue streaks spilled out, circles after circles, drawings and symbols slowly appeared with her touch.

She whispered an incantation in ancient language – something he couldn't really and harmonies filled the air. Her smile was still bright as he remembered, but this time, it was soaked in tears, sorrow and regret. A lone drop fell down, splashing against stony ground.

Then Rin collapsed down.

The silence, this time, was deafening.

Time seemed to have stopped. Len wanted to run at her place, but somehow, his body just became frozen and heavy, so heavy, weighing him down; his lips were chapped, throat dry, and every inch of his being just stood there, disobeying his mind. Horrible, wordless images ran frantically through his thoughts – and _she can't be dead, can't be dead_...

She lay there peacefully, almost as if sleeping.

He didn't know how, or when, or even why, but the next second, he was there next to her, his arms carrying her body. The boy flinched as he saw her up close for the first time; his eyes took notice in faint white scars adorning her skin, in crimson droplets running freely from her lips, and in her weight – so light, like a feather, ready to drift away at any moment.

He shook her body – all pleas and wishes inside him, he let all out in each action – pleading her not to go. He'd had her so close, so close, and he wouldn't lose her – not again...

Her pendant fell down, the clanking sound it made crushed his skull, effectively making his head buzz. All words stuck in his head, running around and around, syllables clawing his eardrums, letters forming incoherent sounds, enough to keep his mind drunk and unstable for the rest of his life...

All those thoughts he couldn't utter spilt out his eyes, radiating a dark colour of shadow, raining on her porcelain skin, swirling emotions finally letting out in wails afters wails.

Warmth was pressed on his skin, faint and almost like an illusion, but it was still there, still there, and his senses, in a desperate attempt, had picked up on it, leaning all his being into ghastly touch.

"Rin...?"

He had never been able to witness her smile this close before, and even though red blood stained it, it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen...

"Len."

He repeated her name again, disbelief coloured his voice, his embrace tightened around her body, her name a mantra on his lips.

"Rin. Oh God, Rin, Rin, Rin..."

Then, to his utter surprise, she let out a strained smile.

"Len, you should go back."

"Why?" He couldn't understand it. Why?

She said nothing, and instead let her fingers intertwine with his calloused ones.

His voice trembled.

"You... are free to go. Rin... Come home. Our mother misses you so much..."

Her hand gripped his tighter, but she provided no answers. Blonde bangs covered her eyes, giving away no expression. (Half of him wondered if she chose this hairstyle just for the sake of its curtailing effect.

Then again, she didn't have any reason to hide her emotions. )

" _I_ miss you so much."

Her head tilted, and Len thought for a moment that he'd caught a brief look of her red–rimmed eyes; of a crystalline drop forming in the corner of one azure eye, before her face schooled into a tight smile.

"I.. really appreciate your concern. But I... I have unfinished business here."

He looked at her like she'd lost her mind. She probably had. His expression was laced with obvious surprise. Ignoring it, she continued.

His eyes flared up dangerously, and she swallowed the 'yes' that had been on the tip of her tongue. He shook her shoulder again, this time with such vigor that it hurt.

"What are you talking about, Rin? Can you actually _hear_ your words?"

The smile she offered didn't waver, but her eyes did.

"Yes. I'm certain about my decision."

He had been the one keeping her afloat, her anchor in this madness that was her life. The small spark of hope that cheered her up, the sanity that her mind should have lost a long time ago. Her hope.

She was the hope of this world, the priestess had told her a long time ago, when she was still a toddler. And Len was her hope. The only thing kept her standing. Her dream and portal to the real world outside, to everything she had missed, to open her eyes and let she know that there isn't only darkness and pain. A companion. Her morphine.

Shadow loomed over their exhausted figures, and they looked up, staring at golden eyes. Black slits narrowed. When the creature opened its mouth, he could make out sharp fangs that should be able to easily end his life, yellowed with the flow of time and tinted red from blood of many people – knights, Divas. He knew the newest, brightest on that ivory surface was his friends' lives; splashing vividly before finally, finally being stuck there for centuries and centuries more.

Just how many lives had been ended by it?

Huge feet dragged themselves toward the twins. His eyesight could make out the line of a tail, swinging heavily behind the dragon's back, chest heaving in a steady rhythm. Up, down, up, down; aged scales adorned burgundy skin shimmied in his vision.

Closer. The distance between them was now down to meters, but he was paralysed, too caught up in the dragon's appearance to move. It radiated a power that drowned him, frightened him.

A sharp hiss was drawled out, and the sheer power of that sound made him want to crawl away.

His hand deftly reached out toward his belt – intending to draw out the sword, only to be stop by a much softer hand of Rin.

"Don't. I will sing for it. The dragon likes songs."

 _Run_ was the underlying meaning, and they both knew it.

His voice croaked out – even words seemed to be forced out his already–damaged vocal chords – "Why don't you go with me?"

"I want to save this world," was the answer she gave.

His hand squeezed hers.

Silence.

"They abandoned you to this life, Rin. They don't deserve to be _saved_."

She shook her head.

"You don't understand it, Len. This world... You belong in this world."

His jaws clenched. _And what about you?_

Her eyes softened.

A louder hiss was released, and the dragon looked anything but peaceful. Large eyes consumed by anger; animalistic instincts to destroy when disturbed splashed over golden surface.

Something in those cerulean eyes snapped. His eyes set in determination as he spoke, with such authority that allowed no rooms for argument.

"I will stay with you."

She didn't realize she was crying until his fingers gently ran over her cheeks and a wet sensation tickled her skin.

Closing her eyes, they let everything out, every emotions pent up inside flowed in the familiar song.

Her hand found its way down to his. A light squeeze. A little upward turn of supple lips.

He returned it with a light smirk – _at least this way he had his wish fulfilled_. Even so, he barely – just barely – dared to hope that he would see her again. Her breath hitched, lips parted open, words forever lingered on her tongue–

* * *

She was the girl everyone loved: A bright nymph with greater magic than anyone ever imagined; a nice little girl, not once had she disobeyed the elders; a good sister to toddlers and infants; a humble being, never acting arrogant. She was everything one could possibly ask for. He had been watching her ever since the beginning.

There she was, standing in the woods, waving her hands enthusiastically at him, her smile reaching from ear to ear. With her bouncing gesture and an all–too–happy expression, the girl could pass as a child herself.

Sunny tresses draped down her slender neck, some loose strands falling down – curving in at the end, barely tugged by her ethnical scarf.

"Come on, brother!"

The boy – her brother – sighed, but his feet moved along nonetheless, mumbling all the way.

"Seriously, you –" He kicked a small branch poking out near his head, "– stupid –" brushed his pale bangs away from dampened forehead, "– good–for–nothing –" scolded at a small squirrel, succeeding in scaring the innocent animal away, "– rule–breaking –" shuffled his feet, purposefully crashed against fallen leaves, "– minx. How did you end up being the holder anyway?"

As if on cue, said girl spun around, eyeing him disapprovingly. In silent skyline, the sound of her clicking her tongue reverberated throughout the woods, tangling itself in crispy material.

"A lot of people will beg to differ your statement, Luné." A scold settled on her face, but he seemed to be unwavered by it. In fact, the only reaction she got from him was a sheepish smile.

"You know I don't mean it like that."

Despite her effort and struggle to remain straight–faced, a smile fought its way across her pink lips, replacing the glare.

"Whatever."

She knew he could never refuse her, and the thought alone would always bring a smile to her face – even during the darkest times.

Sunlight poured down, bathing that smile in glistening, smooth dust. Her eyes twinkled – the aureate colour shimmered like always – happiness he could hear as she hummed softly, skipping around.

He rolled his eyes. It wasn't common that _the_ Solane (yes, she was unique enough and equally well–known to be referred with a 'the' in front of her name) was all riled up to the point where she would act so childish. Given her rather calm and mature mannerism, it was rare enough.

It was no secret that he would always follow her. Not because he was forced to or anything – even though the Elders did say Luné had to protect her – but rather because it was his instinct. She was, and would forever stay his little twin sister; the fragile girl who almost died in a fight being chased by everyone.

 _Witch_ , they'd called her, as she'd accidentally unleashed her power. She didn't know why or how to control it, which only fueled the villagers' fear and anger more.

If it hadn't been for his... abilities, it would have been too late for her.

In addition, there was something else – something he couldn't quite put his finger on. As if it was set in his mind ever since the day he was born – and he couldn't quite explain it – but it only took one look at her to decide that he wanted to protect her.

That thought was strange, but not uncomfortable. In fact, people said it was the sibling bond they shared. (And it was special, it was different from normal siblings' relationship, he mused with unhidden pride.)

When they were six, the Elders announced that Rin was the chosen one. The new sun goddess, the twins were told, with powerful magic to keep their village safe; able to control nature, giving people an advantage with agriculture, planting and watering. The weather was always nice – courtesy of Solane's doing. Of course, people's behaviour toward her changed immediately – saccharine and honeyed praises instead of harsh words, smiles and respect replaced scoffs and scolds.

Clouds shaped like soft pillows glided slowly across the sky, curling into white fluffballs. Spears of dawn light drenched the farthest corners with its golden magic, and there was sweet aroma lingering in the air; flowers and morning dew he could smell, cleansing the cold and husky smell of night. Malachite–green grass continued endlessly toward the horizon, and the breeze teased his golden hair gently, brushing its fingers through her silky tresses.

He must have let some of his amazement slip into his facial expression, because immediately, his twin grinned triumphantly:

"See! I told you so!"

The boy refrained from pointing out that technically, she had said nothing about this besides urging him to come.

His eyes settled into a worried expression instead.

"You know the Elders forbid everyone from going here."

His twin flashed a grin that was positively mischievous. "They probably want to keep this place to themselves."

He stared at her with an unimpressed look. "That is probably the most unconvincing reason I've ever heard."

She waved her hand dismissively.

"Do you see any reasons why we should even consider coming back?"

Her smile flashed again; bright, cheerful, lively. For a moment, his head ached at brief images of Solane lying listlessly on harsh soil, blood spilling out and bruises adorning her skin, clothes trampled and tattered. He was reminded, again, why he would do anything to make her smile.

(His world darkened and soul died a little bit every time she was unhappy – he was just a selfish being, doing everything for his sake rather than hers, after all; he needed her in his life just as much as every villager, if not more, to dull this emptiness and heal the constant want in him, so ready to swallow him whole.)

He would keep her like that. Always.

"...No."

Her smile widened.

"Then come on!"

What a sight to behold – her, the beloved innocent girl who never set a foot against the rules – now broke them herself, he mused.

His eyes followed her form; a petite figure wrapped in neutral–coloured clothes. A light breeze brushed sunlit locks, caressing her fair skin. She was already far from him – her hand extending toward his direction, an excited expression etched across her face, the white bow bouncing enthusiastically on top of golden locks – the white woolen embroidery reminded him too much of fluffy clouds. She smiled and laughed and twirled around, arms winded out like two smooth wings. Knitted cloth and a pleated skirt flapped lightly as golden light poured down, basking Solane and Lune in a soft sensation; streams of yellow colour dotting and mixing in sakura trees before finally resting on their shoulders.

A stubborn, skeptical part of him constantly repeated that there must be a reason why they were banned from going there – but the larger, ignorant part pushed it back, shoved it in a dark corner.

And for a moment, everything was perfect. Unblemished, raw happiness and sunshine, and just _them,_ alone together.

Entering his sight unexpectedly, he could vaguely make out the harsh, black outline of a feather. He couldn't really figure out what was happening until the matter was set in front of his eyes, clear and intimidating, and frustratingly real, and the boy just knew somehow that this would be her – his – _their_ downfall. A memory he would regret forever for solely its existence – _why did I even let her here how can I protect her what can I do_ –

Bleak blackness and sharp yellow teeth, luminous blue eyes gleamed at the pair. Instinctively, he ran toward her, using his body as a shield to cover. He was trained, after all, for situations like this.

Drawing the dagger out of it holder – the Elders were opposed to his choice of weapon, but Luné was nothing, if not a hard–head – the boy wasted no time in attacking. No unnecessary movement, just sharp and straight to the point. _They must be really proud of him had they known how much his technique had improved._

The bird merely spared him a glance; surprisingly sharp feathers whipped across his face as his feet carried him off foliage covered ground, the sheer strength in that act sending him flying. His back slammed into a tree, and he could feel himself sliding down, pushed face first into dry ground. A howl, a rush of pain.

 _Or maybe they would just punish him for defying the rules_ , he dryly grumbled. That, or for him being too weak. He couldn't really decide – and it wasn't like it was important at the time anyway. His sole focus should be on Solane, and how to get out of this alive.

She extended her hand to that beast, a look of sympathy shining in her blue orbs, and he looked at her like she had gone crazy. She probably had anyway.

To his surprise, that thing halted to a stop. Shining eyes stared down at her, concentrating. With stiff posture, it glared at the small figure standing on the cliff with a welcoming hand and a calculating look washed over big orbs – something, _something_ so familiar, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

A treble clef.

A rusty, black treble clef dangled teasingly, merging with inky smoothness.

 _Memory is the scariest thing_ , they said, and he couldn't quite understand what they meant back then – until now.

Blue hair instead of ink–laced feathers, deep cerulean eyes twinkled with laughter and mirth replaced blue, listless orbs. Everything was different, different, different; a human being instead of grim reaper, two incredibly contrasting beings. Like chalk and cheese, one would say.

Different, different, save for the treble clef dangling there.

(Their brother had disappeared too long ago – Lune wouldn't've really believed it if someone had told him that this creature was Kaito.)

 _Silly girl, what have they told you about grim reaper?_

He could only stand there, watching her, with an uneasy feeling that she was somehow walking into her own grave – eyes bright with blind trust and sympathy for that bird, like it was just a harmless little puppy.

(The problem with her, apparently, was that she was too kind and naive, and believed in second chances. She splashed colours – yellow and blue and red and green and every single color ever discovered – sunshine and rainbow filling her vision.)

Blink. Once. Twice.

Calloused fingers reached out, carefully running up and down huge wings – his breath stuck in his clamped throat, sticky and dry, and he waited –

She didn't seem to acknowledge those claws – sharp, dangerous, and very, very close to her throat – ready to snap that slender neck at any second.

 _They are creatures created by darkness, in the depth of Abyss._

Her palm clasped around the wings, so tight that he could see her outstretched hand whiten considerably.

 _They are cursed; carrying death on their wings as they venture. A horrible fate shall bestow upon their victims – those innocent beings, unfortunate enough to be found by grim reapers._

Her eyes shone brightly with the golden sunlight, silver moon and shiny white clouds – she brimmed with hope and faith and trust, an easy target to hunt.

 _And the ones, with souls tainted by blackened darkness, shall suffer the same, never–ending fat_ e.

She glared at him – a strict, warning gleam. _Don't interfere_.

Magic flashed. He was used to the sight – her usual mantra, stroking hand here and there, soothing words flowing from her lips.

 _They bring something deadly with their arrival – an inevitability, no one has ever escaped from this tragic fate –_ they represented sinners and disgrace, corruption and mortal sins that destroyed charity,

 _A proud look_

 _A lying tongue_

 _Hands that shed innocent blood_

 _A heart that devised wicked plots_

 _Feet that are swift to run into mischief_

 _A deceitful witness that uttereth lies_

 _Him that soweth discord among brethren._

Unaffected by her surroundings, she gazed on. The incanation continued without interruption, the smile never left her lips. He watched with sick fascination as her skin gradually paled, thin veins on bony arms pulsating loudly. He stood helplessly, unable to do anything about the situation but watch her – but what good will mere observing bring?

 _They represent every evil…_

A satisfied expression washed over her, and bright eyes watched as the bird transformed completely. Pure, white, unblemished.

Her hands caressed its wings, a feathery touch. Despite everything, the smile –

(– that _goddamned_ smile –)

– vivid and lovely as ever, as if nothing had happened, and she was –

(– destroyed, shattered; her soul smeared with blackness, scars running deep and blood dropping loudly –)

– colorful and perfect; a prism of colours blending together rhythmically. He couldn't tell where one colour ended and another began – a patch of golden light swirling and dancing gleefully.

White wings spread out with a grateful look, and the now white bird, in its own way, bowed its head. _Goodbye_ , it said gleefully with a thankful blink of big eyes, _goodbye_.

The girl titled her head, giving him a slight smirk.

"Luné…?"

 _See? I am fine, I am still here._

His matching smile slipped away as he spotted them. Other reapers – not one, not two, but too many to count. They were marching their ways toward them – toward her – black wings flapping hastily.

(Behind them, the sun was hidden – surrounded by feathers and ash and smoke.)

"Solane, run!"

But she didn't run, she didn't hide. She stared back at him in confusion; an honest confusion that etched in her raised eyebrows, like there was something so obvious, but he couldn't see it –

 _I'm fine – see, see?_

Couldn't _she_ see it? See them? Couldn't she see her own future – smeared with darkness and tainted until she was stripped of her magic, thrown in a dark corner of oblivion and hatred, and bits and pieces of her?

She couldn't.

She saw lives that could be saved. She saw second chance.

Embracing them all, taking their darkness away – _b_ ecause _everyone deserves a chance to begin again, right?_

(No. No. Nonononononono. _No_. They don't. Not when you have to be the one paying.)

He stared at her instead as she inhaled. Hard and shallow, coughing up blood and light and everything. He watched in horror as her hand went limp and petite body fell down.

His feet hurt and his mind screamed. Everything spun so fast that left became right and right became left; spinning and wavering and rotating so fast he couldn't see anything. Wind hissed sharply in his ears, friction burning his exposed skin – cutting into white bones. The coldness sunk in slowly, poisonously.

They hit the ground with a deafening crash – injured and broken and very much _dead_.

Her words vibrated – shaky, scared and –

* * *

She was tainted by hatred, anger, evil and death.

Drossel – Solane – Rin – Eve – were all the same. She didn't change – not one bit. Her hair was still kept in long, silken waves. Still a choker on her slender neck, embedded with the blue gemstone. Blue frilly dress and a crown placed powerfully on her head, crimson sitting innocently among golden mass.

Ah, so she still kept that rose. One he gave her a long time ago, when they were both children and the only thing that mattered was who got the last cookie.

The pointy tip rested mockingly on black velvet, hovering just above the beating muscle inside his chest.

"Do you have any defense?"

(Yes.)

"No," he breathed, light–hearted and carefree. It seemed like he hadn't grown up at all; still stuck as a little boy who snickered mischievously when their prank successfully pissed someone off, smiled affectionately at her with his hands full of roses – her favourite flower.

How dare he remained like that when he'd forced her to leave her childhood and be rushed into maturity? Especially after he had assassinated the king and queen – their parents – with his own hands?

A part of her still stubbornly held on after all the years – the part that now, more than ever, begged to differ from the harsh truth – Letzel, gentle, loving Letzel, never killed a fly. How could he even yield a blade, let alone skillfully decapitate someone?

As always, he proved her wrong.

Parts of her blasted everywhere. They moved too fast, burnt too bright, and everything about the old Drossel withered away, wind scattering gray ash into nothingness. Hatred froze in sapphire eyes, gleaming with a thirst for blood he had never seen in her before.

Silver pierced through his heart.

He smiled. His hands found themselves around her waist, bringing her closer – and the sword dipped down more and more, ripping his heart apart. She watched with wide eyes. The stubborn part sobbed.

Crimson rose petals marred his skin. Letzel coughed. Red blood merged into black cloth, almost invisible to her eyes.

"I–"

Colors drained out.


	2. and on and on and on again

_Some part of her seemed to tear into parts. She had broken it – had ripped open something fragile._

 _There was a tear, a crack, a change. And from that one decision a dozen new timelines were formed, each with a different future. A different Len. A different Rin. With time spinning on._

 _The world was cracked, but kept spinning. The worlds lived on._

* * *

She was cold – too cold. Her hands were frozen against his skin. White cracked skin, which was once velvety now rasped, tapping against his shoulder as she nudged him.

"Ciel... Please? Can I go outside?"

"No."

"Ciiiiiiiieeeeelllllllllllllllll."

"No is no, Soleil. 'No', you know, a two letter word? N–O? Usually, it's a negative response."

Pout. She tried to be happy for him, he knew, but her expression soon turned into a cough. A harsh sound and pain ripped through her throat. He knew.

And that was the reason why he forced her to stay inside, after all.

Ciel begged. He pleaded. He demanded. He screamed at her not to go. It wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth it. It was just a flower. Couldn't she just stay inside and sing, like she always did?

He couldn't remember exactly when the disease first showed its symptoms. Maybe it was the blood, the cough. Maybe it was the flu. So many symptoms, so many unhealthy signs. He should have realised it sooner. Then again, even if he had seen them, that would've changed nothing. Even if they had known sooner, she wouldn't have been cured anyway.

Incurable, the doctor said casually, like it was an everyday occurrence. The virus would eat away her immune system until there was nothing left, and eventually she would come down with something like a cold.

Her life, from that moment, was counted day by day. Death lingered, lurking in every dark corner and leering at her, waiting – waiting for the right chance to steal Soleil away. To trap her smile, her light, in darkness for ever and ever.

It was the worst in winter. The temperature dropped to freezing, and snow inhalation wasn't good for anyone's health – let alone _hers_.

She just wanted to get out to find a rose. He knew. It was her birthday. She would always ask for a rose. Nothing but a rose.

" _Why?"_

" _They are beautiful. That should be enough for a reason."_

She was so lively back then...

The boy sighed. His eyes lidded, stress and sorrow pulling them shut.

He placed his teacup down. A dying sun, huh? She was already perishing in front of him...

A breath escaped his nostrils, misty and gray, a cloud of steam blurring the world.

"Soleil, I will get you a rose, okay? Just stay here."

She didn't reply.

(He should've known she would sneak away. There were just so many things that he should've known.)

"Soleil?"

His voice raised an octave, colored with unhidden fear and suspicion.

"Soleil?"

The door was open and wind was blasting in, slicing his skin with cold cuts, allowing silver moonlight stream in.

He knotted his scarf and hastily put on his clothes. S _oleil, Soleil, Soleil – find Soleil. Where is she?_ Deep down, he already knew the answer.

Her footprints were fresh on trampled snow, tumbled and darkened with dirt, and he knew.

Her figure sat there peacefully, back pressed against the tree. Between lithe fingers, blooming colorfully and contrasting brightly against the paleness of her skin, the sky and the snow, was a rose. Beautiful and lonely.

"Soleil?"

Her head raised just a little to see him approaching. Dull eyes lightened up a little, her breath a little too shallow.

"Ciel!"

She smiled happily – yet the smile so painful. It was splitting her face – too forced and too cold to be real. It was usually bright and lovely, and this was just... too strange.

He wanted to yell at her. He really did. He would scold her for not listening – he would drag her inside if he had to. He wanted to do many things.

Her smile pained him.

Instead, Ciel sat down next to her.

"I told you not to come out, Soleil."

He shouldn't be sounding so relieved. Shaky fingers brushed against her porcelain skin, rosy cheeks and icy lips. Soleil. How ironic it was – a cold sun.

Somehow, he knew. He could finally tell her to go inside and she would never again be able to fight back. He could keep her warm forever, as she wouldn't go out like this again.

Her finger was bleeding – a thorn picked at her skin. The lone drop of red froze midway in its journey.

"Sing for me?"

He silently shook his head – she should be the one singing, with a sweet voice and hope brimming in her eyes as she instilled life into her words and told stories through melodies.

"I don't want to sing a sad song..." Her voice trailed off thoughtfully at the end. It sounded more like a plea than anything.

"...No," he croaked out. Words clawed at his throat, flickering dangerously in his mouth. They tasted like ashe and dust, filling his lungs, suffocating him.

Her palm opened. Light white dust gathered in her pale hand, contrasting sorely with the blood red rose, smothering the dot of color into something duller, more listless, more dead.

"What does my voice sound like now?" she asked, calm and quiet. The flower now lay on cold snow, thorns digging into the pile desperately, fighting. Bleeding, crimson color oozed out as half–bloomed petals.

"Soleil. Listen to me. Listen to me," he murmured. Her name was so distant, withered on his lips.

She didn't hear him, didn't hear anything. Lips parted to form something. A word. A breath, frosted on his skin, shattering loudly. A ghost of a word floated ghastly – so small, so brittle – and he wondered, oh, he wondered if that rose would feel ashamed. She was so pale, compared to her red hot blood draining out into a far more perfect fantasy – where everything was flawless and they got their happily–ever–after. Where she wasn't riddled with that accursed fate, and instead, was somewhere singing and dancing. Where he had the chance to say what had been heavy in his heart for a long time now.

(His voice reached out, caressing damaged hands.)

He held her hand and hoped she was somewhere better.

Somewhere. Somewhere.

Anywhere.

Icy snowflakes bit her hands, but she couldn't feel anything anymore.

* * *

Gretel watched as another girl with golden hair and big eyes played with her brother. Sure, there were differences between them: The other girl was shorter and had cerulean eyes, her hair was pulled in a more complicated style and she flitted around in expensive, frilly dresses. Gretel, on the other hand, had golden eyes and wore a simple maid attire, with her hair tied to the side.

They were different, and most important, she wasn't Gretel – wasn't the holy twin.

But that girl – the princess – had everything else. Money, fame, and most important, Hansel. Something – Gretel swallowed with a dry throat, tongue darting out to moisten her chapped lips – she could never have. Not in this lifetime.

"Princess R–"

* * *

 _Bong. Bong. Bong._

A silent cry filled the cramped atmosphere. The woman sighed contentedly, a lone breath drowned by pants and moans. Sweat drenched her torso and golden tresses flowed freely on hospital bed, sorely contrasting with the dull white color surrounding her.

The man – her husband – stood aside, eyes wide with wonder that made her feel so accomplished, his arms carefully cradling two little bundles.

"Well?" she managed to breathe out a word, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips. "What do you think?"

Dell continued watching his – their – children, the corner of his lips turned up.

He could watch them all day.

No other words were needed.

Serenity rang eerily in the air, and both parents gave out a small laughter as little bodies squirmed slightly under layers of blanket, little mouths forming two identical 'o's. Ann picked up the infants, tucking them in her embrace while humming softly, trying to lull the kids to a peaceful sleep.

No one noticed two tiny hands joined together under fluffy cloth.

For a moment, peace was bestowed upon them. The king, the queen, and those twins.

Twins.

Twins.

Twins.

Realization dawned upon them, and they looked at each other in dread, fearing for what would come. What would come, if everyone knew of the twins…

 _Children of devil. I know that._

 _They are bad omen, I tell you._

 _They invite misfortune._

 _Misfortune._

 _Misfortune that made twins, misfortune that is long–lived because of the royal bloodline in them, misfortune that has been born._

His wife begged, pleaded – _please, please keep them alive, please, they are our children, our flesh and blood, please…_

The king swallowed.

 _We only have a daughter._

Their mother nodded. Tears and sobs replaced laughter and happiness.

Joined hands never got to hold each other again.

::oOo::

Rilliane reminded him of a rose. A beautiful, thorned flower. Intricate patterns and delicate petals, flitting and dancing elegantly – flimsy fingers wrapping around sharp, hard edges, fluttering oh–so–sweetly against the curious fingertips before drifting away in just a mere second.

Maybe she knew it too. Or maybe she was just fond of beauty in general, like any little innocent girl would a beautiful plaything.

Allen knew a lot of people would beg to differ that description. Literally and metaphorically. And if he hadn't been the one close to her, maybe he would have been there, one of them, cursing her name with everything he had.

 _Witch_ , the maids called her, and he struggled to keep his face blank, settled in a calm state of no emotion. _Daughter of Evil_ , the peasants whispered during calm nights, flasks of orange flame licking their faces.

He hated those names.

(Who are they to judge her like that?)

She was nothing like that – pure and cold, a little snowflake that dance merrily. Naive, soft, sweet and so very malleable; the embodiment of her being. Everything about her was so simple– one dimensional, plain. White, like the snow that framed crimson so gorgeously. Everything was perfect for her, luxuries and wealth – everything. She lived in a pink bubble, happily ignorant of the pain and starvation. He wouldn't call that a _sin_. It was never a sin to live.

Allen could see their point, however. He could see the way she smiled – so innocent and one–sided that it looked artificial – while she sent people to their death. She laughed at their struggle like a funny joke – and maybe to her, it was a joke.

He stood by her side as she ordered the guards to drag yet another peasant out of her sight, a smirk never leaving her face and fingertips waving mockingly. He watched in mild horror and sick fascination as a woman, fierce red hair falling on her face and a tattered dress, yelled at Rilliane with everything she had – _we were short on bread, your majesty, please have some mercy!_

"Let them eat cake then." She waved her hand dismissively. Curses echoed on the delicately painted wall and a bell tolled loudly.

The princess beamed at him. "Allen, it's tea time!"

"Yes, Milady."

::oOo::

Allen stood by her side as his twin – his princess – stared at golden locket in her hand so intensely. Her gaze lingered on the face of a blue–haired man, a small smirk engraved on reflective surface with starlight eyes.

Fingers closed around the face, clutching so tightly that snow skin stretched thinly on her hand and knuckles went white with force, blue veins tattoed on velvety surface – he could almost see blood rushing in those veins.

Translucent blood rolled down, leaving a glistening path in its wake. She choked, a sob curled in the back of her throat. The bright smile was swallowed by trembling lips, faltering and cracking and forever slipping through his fingers.

He could do nothing but to watch (and to hopelessly, hopelessly stand there – reaching his hand out but he could never help her with the problem) with a boiling hatred toward that unknown man. Oh, how he wished to strangle that man – just for making her cry.

His rose was tainted with cuts and dried blood. Fire burnt him too.

She spoke, voice void of emotion – like all the sobs and red rimmed eyes he saw were just an illusion his mind created. Cold.

"Kill all the girls with teal hair."

He bowed.

"Come back before tea time."

::oOo::

The girl with sunny eyes, pink lips and green hair. Another flower; another rose he loved and cherished. A smile wavered on her face and eyelashes fluttered closed. A thin line of redness streamed out, and the dagger glared at him – sneered.

 _Choose._

 _One girl for another._

He pressed the blade further into her heart – forever slicing it in half. Petals withered away into gray ash.

A part of him went numb.

The world spinned on.

::oOo::

Her smile welcomed him. It was cracked and distorted – but it was more than nothing. Blooming and bright, not yet, but soon enough.

 _Bong. Bong. Bong._

Rilliane smiled at him over the rim of her delicate cup. A brioche and a cup of tea – her face lightened immediately as she took the first bite.

It was nice, he decided. To see her smile.

::oOo::

They wanted to trample on her smile; dirty it with their blood–thirst, crushing the flower until there was nothing left to save. Damage her and leave behind burnt pieces that never could be recovered.

She was shaking. Trembling visibly.

"Am I to die?"

"No," he assured her, trying to keep his voice steady and his face calm.

( _Yes_.)

"It's only a revolt. The guards will stop them – don't worry."

She stared at him dubiously. Fear shone dimly in bright orbs.

"Milady?"

"What?"

"Do you want to play a game?"

A few sparks of suspicion gleamed, but Rilliane was an innocent girl. A fourteen year old. His twin.

"What are you proposing?"

"We can switch clothes. It would be really interesting to prank people, don't you think?"

He had his hair down. A rose was placed neatly in golden locks and her dress, frilly and ornate.

Roses, she liked roses. It was no wonder her attire was adorned with her favorite flower.

She was wearing his clothes – simple and monochrome. A blazer and white dress shirt, black trousers and messy ponytail pulled up with haste.

Rilliane no longer looked like a rose anymore. No-one would ever mistake her for it again.

The sound of metal clashing and yelling seemed far away, almost like a dream. He wished it was a dream. He really did.

Alas, all Allen could do was to smile sadly.

"With those clothes, you should be able to move easily."

Her head tilted just the slightest bit.

He pressed a chaste kiss on her lips, and strong hands forcefully shoved Rilliane into a closet.

A whisper brushed her ear breezily – "Hide."

Late realization dawned on her face. Too late, too late, too late to do anything now.

He casted a discreet wink toward her direction. They stormed in and she watched through tearful eyes as 'herself' was dragged out.

 _I just want to protect your smile._

 _How much strength does a person need to do that?_

The hood fell on her face, curtained blue eyes from the sight of him. Her lower lip trembled as she prayed, prayed with all she had for a miracle – he didn't deserve this end.

He tilted his head, a perfect imitation of her haughty expression masked his face.

Curses and yells and even bricks were thrown at him. One hit his forehead. Her own blood lashed out. A nasty cut marred his forehead. His smile didn't falter.

 _If the devil's your lord, as the masses curse your name,_

 _Then I'm a demon too, for our blood's one and the same._

Another teardrop rolled down her face.

His eyes caught sight of her, as always. Brief surprise crossed his eyes before it settled into a cold glare.

 _Run. As far as possible. As fast as possible._

 _Can you hear my wish?_

 _Bong. Bong. Bong._

It was her favorite time, Allen remembered. The only time of a day he could see her smile so genuinely and freely.

It was also his favorite time too.

"Oh, it's tea time!"

"Allen –"

The golden rose in his hair rolled down. Redness splashed across yellow petals.

She would never be mistaken for a rose.

Never again.

* * *

A forgotten doll, left in the dark attic. That was the most fitting description of her.

"Who are you? Why –? How are you in my mirror?"

He looked at her amusedly, obviously surprised by her questions. Immediately, she looked down. A shy voice reached his ears.

"I'm sorry..."

Leo chuckled.

"No, don't be. _I'm_ sorry. For surprising you like that."

"Why are you in my mirror?" came the same abashed voice. He took his time, digesting the sight of her background into his eyes. She seemed to be alone. Her dress had already lost its colors, leaving a bland ashen color on white cloth. She had a face just like his and eyes downcast, like a guilty child.

Hot, fresh sadness welled up in his heart. _He_ should be the one feeling guilty for destroying her life instead.

"I'm a magician."

That wasn't a lie. Technically.

"Why–why are you here?" Her voice shook at the end. "Did I do something wrong? Are you here to punish me again?"

"No!"

Perhap he answered a little too hastily. She peeked at him again with weary eyes.

"No. I'm here to grant your wishes."

::oOo::

It started with simple things at first. She didn't believe him. It was too good, too miraculous to be true – the most wonderful thing in her life so far. It even took him two days just to learn her name, and she kept worrying if he would disappear anytime soon.

(Her name, he learnt, was Raina. _A beautiful name for a beautiful girl_ , he promptly said, and she blushed profusely. _Thank you_.)

"Will you be my friend?"

He smiled warmly.

"We are friends."

::oOo::

Her wishes were always simple. Sometimes she would just ask for a rose. Sometimes a dish of pastry – preferably brioche.

Her smiles were sunlight that lit up the dark attic. Her laughter filled an empty void.

"Thank you," she kept repeating.

"For you, a thousand times over."

::oOo::

She asked for something more. Nothing ridiculous. Just a cure for her sickness.

He tried to hide his limping in front of her. It was all worth it, however, when she beamed at him. She thanked him over and over and over again, and he smiled back, his finger pressed against her lips in a silent gesture.

"For you, a thousand times over."

::oOo::

Raina told him about her dream – to be a princess in a magnificent castle, where she was loved and cherished, where everyone acknowledged her existence. It was just a dream, she told him, just something her mind cooked up. Her wishful sigh didn't escape his attention.

The next time they met, he was in a dusted attic, dark and cold and unwelcoming. She was at her dream castle, flitting and dancing around cheerfully. The smile never left her face. It was enough for him, he thought. It was high time he gave her back everything.

Soldiers burst into her room one day, telling her something about 'bringing their princess back'.

"Thank you!" she sang out. Her hand held his tightly, warmth soaking his skin from the other side of the mirror.

He let out a tiny smile, trying to stand still.

"For you, a thousand times over."

::oOo::

Leo stood in front of her. His smile was still there as ever, but something was off. Very off.

Sadness clung to her heart.

"What happened, Leo?"

He hesitated. His voice faded. Fingers threaded against her own.

"It's time."

"What's time?"

Fear seeped in. Unreasonable and very illogical, she knew. She couldn't explain her emotions either.

 _Was he going to leave her?_

"Raina, I can't stay here. Not without making you miserable." His words were eerily calm, but the hand against her own was betraying his facade. He was shaking, vibration running down his spine.

 _He was._

Hot tears were already rolling down her cheeks, burning like poison on baby soft skin. His other hand wiped away the drops.

"It's the opposite from your world, Raina. You were supposed to be a princess as always, like in your dream, and I in shadows… And if I stay here, don't you think – don't you think I'm gonna steal away your happiness too?

"On the other side of the mirror is a world where everything is reversed, Raina." He waved his hand. A ghost of a smirk flickered across his lips.

"I should do my best to grant your wishes, right?"

She choked on her tears. Words rumbled, trying to piece themselves together into coherent sentences, but he was drifting away, already drifting away – "NO! STAY, PLEASE!"

Her hand reached through the mirror into his side, trying to grasp him, but it was already too late. His reflection was shattering, pieces by pieces, patterns and colors exploding everywhere. She could only hold a handful of her memories of Leo with tear–blurred vision.

"Please, I beg you – please stay..."

Wind whispered hoarsely in her ears and a frail smile wavered.

"For you, a thousand times over..."

* * *

She was a forgotten singer. Her best friend was executed that day.

They were a pair of human-sized puppets, living in an odd family. One night, a villager, a girl with teal hair, came. The family never saw daylight again.

She was a doll, wanting nothing but praises and compliments from her creator. So she kept dancing, kept singing – even though he was no longer there.

A marionette, slowly falling apart after decades of life. A porcelain doll tried to comfort her. "You are beautiful," he whispered, despite the cracks on her body and her broken arm. Her eyes closed and a "thank you" died on her lips.

She was a cursed princess, awaken by the prince's _true love kiss_. They jumped out the tower afterward.

He was a prisoner and she was just an unknown girl. They exchanged letters through paper planes. One day, she never showed up by the fence again – the officer beat him until the heart in his chest was silent forever.

She was a suicidal girl, wanting nothing but to end her misery. He was the silent boy sitting in the garden. They met and he saved her from her own beast. But she couldn't save him from his disease. ( _I'm yet to join you_.)

An android went berserk when they were strolling down the city. He died using his body to cover her own, shielding her from the bullet flying towards them.

He was the heir of a fortune. Life twisted his vision of humanity – drummed into to him that everyone was greedy and cruel. He bought a diva from the club thinking that she would fall in love with him – or at least, his money. But she refused to sing or eat for a long time.

* * *

And on and on and on.

* * *

 _Time and worlds merged together – cracking and spinning on mercilessly, opening ripples of wounds and holes._

 _Time changed. They changed too._

 _Lives and universes twisted their minds. Something once so pure now heavy and dark, weighing them both down. They couldn't escape their fate, couldn't escape their love. No matter what._

 _Love is the most condescending way to describe what the source of magic is. It's the best word that can serve as an epitome of greed, desire, revenge, friendship, romance, care, family, destruction, obsession, and more._

 _Their love was a contradiction._

 _A curse._

 _But then, that timeline never was, it never happened – yet it happened all at once._

* * *

She was perfect, too perfect that her beauty was on the verge of inhumanity. Then again, no blue bloods were supposed to be human. He would know.

There were rumors surrounding her every step she took, death lying at her feet when she made her path through the crowd. They swooned at her, worshiped her; her perfection too much for them to bear. It sliced through their skin swiftly, sweetly – an apology ghosted on their eardrums and their lives ended. Mutely and willingly.

Everyone knew she wasn't human. Yet these men, foolish, naive, stupid men just came to her, one after another, again and again and again, with nothing but their blind admiration and the wrong belief that 'maybe I'm an exception' and 'true love'

He stood back in silence and darkness; and counted.

She fell in love quickly. A wink, a charming look, harmless chatters, and she fell somewhere between a secluded room and a ball. The new and in love couple burnt bright, shone light the moon – vows and promises exchanged 'in the witness of the moon and the stars'

(But moon and stars can be clouded too.)

Sooner or later, she would came back. Tears running on beautiful face and ten red glaring scraps of blunt nails digging in soft skin, she came running back to him – him, her twin brother, not one of those guys she loved. Him.

(They couldn't – wouldn't – contain her – her love – her blood – her being – _her_. She wasn't human. She wasn't one of them.)

A white tulip. Always a white tulip. He would give them to her whenever she came – pure white, petals translucent and sheeny. _An apology_ , she wondered idly, _why would he apologize?_

But of course, the thought only flitted through her mind. And if it stayed, she would just brush it off. He probably didn't even know the meaning behind a white tulip.

It became a cycle – one so tiring and horrendous.

She came to him more often than ever. Someone's name played on soft lips, her murmur was the only sound in silent room.

 _He's shot._

He stroked her hair.

 _Poisoned._

Fingers brushed against her forehead, white skin crinkled in a frown.

 _Drown._

A sob escaped.

 _Burnt._

He sat next to her, her face buried in the crook of his neck.

(He could feel the hollow under her jaw, blue veins pulsing soothingly, her vocal chords curled and she choked on unspoken cry.)

 _Impaled._

A lone droplet fell down her face. Leonard wondered if it was just the candle's light or her face really seemed ghostly and pale.

 _Electrocuted._

Her voice strained.

Tired.

There wasn't a single tear.

Nameless faces and unfamiliar names blended in together, red, black, white, dead.

Irene just fell in love times and times, and he lost count at the fifteenth one.

::oOo::

She was inhuman. Everyone knew that. He knew that. The dead's family knew that. Their own parents knew that.

Everyone knew.

Everyone but her.

The blood flowing in her – his – their bodies weren't red. The hands he touched weren't warmth with life force, the features they both shared were just solid and perfect and distant – miles and miles away from such things as breathing and sweating and _loving_. They were just flawless like that.

Was that perfection a cover for the curse she carried in her chest? The thing that kept them from being actual humans?

 _No_ , Leonard answered swiftly, his hand twirled her blond curls as she pressed her face against his chest, inhaling something akin to body warmth from him.

The white tulip smirked at him.

 _Yes_.

::oOo::

Another man fell prey to Irene. Nothing new.

He scoffed.

"Another plaything, dear sister?"

She frowned at him, brows squeezed together and eyes narrowed into a heated glare.

"What was that supposed to meant?"

 _It meant you were alluring another one to his death, it meant you were out there trying yourself at the role of a lover – just to feel human – wasn't that right,_ _ **Irene**_ _?_

 _You're just sucking the life out of that man, all for your selfish sake._

"I just want to be loved!"

 _Just as I thought._

He stood up and left the room.

"Never mind."

::oOo::

They were two different beings – opposite pair, two halves, two sides of a coin. Black and white, male and female, bent and bestowed upon the curse.

She was the embodiment of the fear, the succubus, the temptress under her beauty.

Did that mean he was their hero, their saviour?

::oOo::

 _Sorry_ , the white tulips spoke again, gentle color cupping red droplets, contrasting so nicely. Masquerade prey number twenty–first stared at him with white eyes and dilated pupils, an accusation glaring directly at him even in death.

Ah, how annoying.

Steel gray metal slitted through wide, dead look, the spongy sense so sickening and weak and breaking, breaking, breaking, crimson fluid leaked through open cracks sneakily and he thought,

 _how would red blood taste like, hmm?_

::oOo::

Somehow, it hurt. It hurt to look at her, it hurt to be near her presence – a thousand needles stinging his eyes; spellbound, mesmerized, was that what those people felt when they saw her?

Her hand traced the tombstone belonging to another man – someone he didn't recall. (And he was pretty sure she didn't, either.)

A distant sickness writhed across unblemished skin and a porcelain smile very tight against her throat.

"I wish I remembered their faces. The scars just… heal too fast."

The frown across his face pressed against inner muscles.

This he knew. Because their bodies didn't remember the pain etched (burnt, tattooed, glassed) on and on and on again on their minds; and there were times when he cut into his hands and wrists, metal slashing against skin so pure and majestic and human – but the next morning he would wake up, skin healed and unblemished and unpolished, a grim frown of wicked recovery.

She still turned around a little everytime the door opened, hoping to find a face of someone very long gone.

And he wore gloves now.

::oOo::

 _Femme fetale_ , they hissed behind her back, and he couldn't help but agree.

::oOo::

They grabbed his collar on the street one day, yelling desperately at him to return their brothers, their sons –

– what could he even do? Their souls were devoured by her – by her perfection – by her flawlessness – by _her_ – already.

Surely they knew.

::oOo::

Another man. The portrait made him out to be intimidating and tall, eyes piercing and jaws sharp, while in reality and up close, he was a little too short, his smile a little too warm and plain a little too human.

She glowed too – her breath humid and warm across his chin, so alive. _Too_ alive, in fact.

Leonard studied the individual curve of an eyelash on her cheek and wondered how long would this one last.

::oOo::

His eyes were cold, almost gloating. Dark and perfect and flawless and _nothing_.

"Leonard?"

She raised her brows in surprise.

"What are you doing here?"

Yes, what are you doing here – in the garden, sowing another white tulip and –

and –

why is the scythe red?

His voice was honeyed venom, a velvety kiss against the tip of her tongue.

"You can't play this love game forever, you know..."

Soft murmurs tangled themselves in her hair.

"It – it's not a game!" – A stammered, hesitant statement.

She took a step back.

"Oh? It isn't a game?"

 _Scared and hurt, confused and alone. Just like him._

Her legs tumbled, caught in the frilly cage called dress. He shrugged.

"If that is what you want to believe, sis."

Her tone turned defensive.

"I didn't think love is supposed to be that hard!"

 _Surprised and obviously taken aback, being thrust into this whole mess of intricate layers and damaged daydream, a flawed flawlessness. Just like him._

He gripped her tightly, his hand under her chin, forcing her to look at his mirrored eyes; a frozen sky color crushed her breath.

"Let me take care of it, then," he purred, a fleck of studious glare directed at her identical eyes. "You are terrified of me, aren't you?"

A large gulp was the only reaction Irene gave.

"And you should be, after all."

His hand cupped her chin, yanking so their lips were a mere hair's breadth apart.

"You are harmful for them, you know," frosty patterns gathered on her skin where his breath touched it, "you've got the leech in you, the black blood that they couldn't – can't – contain. No one can."

"Give up."

She turned away, trying in vain to untangle herself from him.

"Don't be like that. I'm only trying to help you, and I'm actually kinder than you deserve, darling," his words stung, "I should be breaking every single bone in your body, should be wringing your neck until the redness that you love so much drips down your throat..."

She was silent, ever so silent; her head pounded so hard and everything didn't stop spinning, spinning, spinning.

His fingers clamped down around her wrist, twisting and crushing until a satisfying crash echoed and her bone snapped. Her face reflected the hurt expression, a wince evident.

Leonard nodded.

"Better for you to be hurt than them."

His teeth bit her before she could protest or make any attempt to escape.

A warm liquid flowed into his mouth.

He released her out of his gasp, a wet noise chewing on his skin – unblemished, untarnished skin – and forced her eyes on his.

"Look at me."

"Look at me, and don't you dare look at anyone else."

::oOo::

Darkness colored her face. Her smile widened just a little when the white tulip was dyed in crimson fluid, a bloody apology, and oh. She finally got it. The feeling, to be inhumanly human. The scythe whistled lovingly, almost serenely, and oh, it was death. One thing they would never, _never_ be able fix.

And it was very, very human.

* * *

They called her _red-eyed China doll_.

He didn't understand the meaning behind this. Rina was the last thing from delicate, frail or weak. She was not glass nor porcelain. She didn't break when being dropped, hit, violated, _impurified_. If anything, she was flame. Red and fiery and straight, single-minded and honest, and she burnt. Burnt out blindly, her flame carved in those crimson eyes, twisted and deformed but standing still. Red like fire. Red like blood. Slow and tendious, licking and biting and clawing her way out no matter what happened.

These men were wrong. Rina was solid. Beautiful, hard underneath the soft charade, and painfully, painfully _solidified_.

And they could act lovingly and nobly all they wanted, but those men were the ones created the porcelain sex toy that was once his sister. A geisha.

::oOo::

He was different. Starkly different.

Because where Rina was hot and daring, impatient and flare and full of anger, Ren was calm. Frighteningly calm, always smiling, always peaceful, always, always, always. Soothing and silky and slicking. Because they were two opposite sides of a coin, a pair of twins, a pack, one deal. Sun and moon, light and darkness, fire and water. Red and white, crimson and pearly. Purity and deception.

Because no matter how much she knew, no matter how much she thought she knew about pain and hurts and defilement; Rina would never, never know the way men look at him. Never, never know the twisted, cruel, sickening fascination way they look at him – _him_ , not her. She would never know. She would never understand. How he was a vile, twisted being.

Ren liked to think that he was water. Calm, tranquil, and concealing. Reflective. Shapeless and unfathomable.

::oOo::

 _Forever twins, m'kay?_

::oOo::

The promise was made for a long time ago, before they even knew their circumstance, before they knew that their parents had abandoned them in this whorehouse.

::oOo::

Ren watched her eyes trail after yet another customer as the man walked out. Defty fingers flew up to trace the contours of her lips, and she gave him a smile, dreamy, lovely, innocent.

"He understood, Ren."

 _Oh, did he?_

He commented nothing. Instead, a knowing smile tucked at his lips.

"I'm glad."

::oOo::

But that man knew nothing. That man and Rina and everyone. The pity in their eyes made him want to vomit – did they even know what they were looking at?

The life of a geisha was never, never simple. Never like that.

It was sickening. She knew that, at least.

The same distant sickness writhed in his eyes.

::oOo::

The man Rina was talking about was an average one in all aspects. Mediocre look, intelligence a little above normal. Like every other men out there. The only difference was that he loved Rina.

Ren could see that. Blind, trustworthy, weakening, affectionate, disgusting love. The warmth in his gaze, the familiarity in his voice as he called her name were unmistakable.

The man set his eyes on him and his sister's name immediately spilt out his lips.

Ren smirked.

::oOo::

He didn't understand. She didn't understand. No-one did.

::oOo::

A flirtatious wink, a charming smile, sweet voice and half-caresses. Love, she – he – decided, was blind. Weakening. Nothing. They were just an empty, endless abyss, a shade of black color searing nothing out. (Just like their parents' name.)

It was nothing.

White pupils stared at the man in front of him before standing up and kiss the guy sweetly on the lips.

 _I will wait for you to free me, my love_.

::oOo::

Rina dipped her hands underwater. Cold liquid draped her fingers, wettening the silky sleeves of her rope.

She was about to open her mouth and speak something – anything – when another one of them ran in, surprised and shocked.

He watched her eyes brighten while silently untying her favorite red ribbon out of his flaxen hair.

 _Ren! You won't believe it! He will buy me out!_

She sang, hugging the thin sheet of paper closer to her chest.

 _I'm so happy, brother. And, oh! Don't worry. I won't forget you. Never will._ She all but sang out. _Forever twins, right?_

 _Even when I'm a disgusting human being_ , he wanted to ask, but in the end wisely kept his mouth shut and mutely note.

::oOo::

She came tumbling in his room, wide-eyed and excited.

He let her sleep in his bed. Just like old days.

::oOo::

She almost ruined everything.

An ending to all of it. Her skinny shoulder set and her narrow jaw stubborn and the berry lipstick stained her lips the color of wet blood and for a moment, she doesn't need paint or jewels or anything to be red.

There was a crazy shift in his eyes and a smile slurred across his face for just a breath.

"Rina?"

"Hmmm?"

"Can I kiss you?"

For a moment, the flare burned the shadow out of his face and the man looking back at her is a breath away from wet paper. Begging to tear.

She held back her own breath and breezed out the answer.

Hi lips closed in on hers even before the door shut.

::oOo::

Just once, he kissed those red, deadly lips.

Geishas were supposed to please their customers, and she may regard his words as an instinctive attempt to treat her like one; but he whispered it anway.

"I will always, always love you..."

::oOo::

She looked at him with smiling, guilty eyes, and he tried to reciprocate.

"Forever twins?"

He didn't answer, instead only ushered her into the carriage.

::oOo::

 _Forever twins?_

::oOo::

Ren wanted to say something to the man – her husband now; because he had finally realized that Rina's smile reminded him of being miles underwater and looking up to see glitter upon the surface; and love had never been so real like this.

And maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just as fake as a geisha's love confession, but they could never take away the images of poison-red lips or sideway-glass crimson eyes from his memories.

He carefully picked up the dagger a customer gave him as a gift, and smiled; rubbing it between his thumb and forefingers, relishing in how smooth and delicate it was.

Metal blade flung across his nape, cutting through their promise, through his veins. Words solidified on his lips, and a color reminding him so much of Rina flowed out uncontrollably, stealing away his life.

"Finally, the nuisance is gone..."

::oOo::

 _Forever twins?_

 _ **No.**_

 _ **I want more than familial love.**_

* * *

She had asked for forever.

He had said yes without hesitation.

A thousand years later, everything was different. She had white, wavy pigtails and a pair of mismatched eyes. He had short black hair and the eyes mirroring her own. And she was grown in a huge testtube instead of being a real human, his clone, his split personality.

It was love. In whatever form, it was still love. Twisted, sickening, vile, cruel. Beautifully so.

She eyed him with wary regard. Eyes bled out his blood. Dark, black blood. His blood. Her cry clattered on the floor. The hollow under her jaw widened, and a crooked smile mixed in with their history.

"This wasn't what I asked for."

It wasn't what he had asked for, either.

But the more they wanted to be together, the more they drifted apart.

(This is a contradiction. _They_ were a contradiction.)

Oh, and now she thought it was all his fault?

She looked at him through stranger's eyes. It just wasn't her anymore. Not the Eve he fell in love with.

Not anymore.

She was Sakuhi.

And he wasn't the same, either. Now, he was Rei.

They weren't the same. They didn't have that spark.

They were strangers to each other now. Strangers who were once in love, once sharing so many secrets together, now faltering, falling so quickly, broken into themselves. A thousand years had made it effect onthem, worn them out. Scarred and bruised and scared.

She was the blemished, tainted innocence once known as the girl he loved.

He was impaled, blinded, and matured out.

The last remnants of their love balanced on the red thread, stretching them painfully far apart.

(Oh, but it was the red thread of fate. They could be stretched, could be pulled apart, could be scarred. Jarred and cut and dyed, interwoven and messed, but never, never ever drifted apart. The tie was there, and would always there.

Always, always, always.)

Love and lust and everything splashed on them as they fell.

.

She plunged a needle in his red eyes.

He stripped her of her innocence, her happiness, her virginity.

Together, they played a jet-black symphony, twisting in their dance, strutting down the starlit path to the next unknown.

Eve – Sakuhi – asked him again.

The serpent – Rei – was silent.

As silent as the heart in her chest.

.

Love was never supposed to be this hard.

.

He pressed a kiss on her cold, unfeeling and very much dead lips, and murmured their usual farewell.

.

"Thank you."

* * *

And on and on and on again.

* * *

 **Maybe we've lived a thousand lives before this one and in each of them we've found each other... I know I've spent each life before this one searching for you. Not someone like you but you, for your soul and mine must always come together.**

\- _Nicholas Sparks_ , The Notebook.

* * *

So. By now you probably realized that this is PVs-based.

... Right?

Can you tell all of them - and by all of them I mean the one-liners too?

Well it's actually understandable if you don't. Because let's face it, if it hadn't been for Google, maybe even I wouldn't have known half of them anyway XD

So, here's the list. Feel free to check!

 **Part one:**

 **1.** Out of Eden (Well, sort of XD More like based on the title XD)

 **2.** Abandoned on a Moonlit Night.

 **3.** Synchronicity series.

 **4.** Soleil.

 **5.** Sword of Drossel/Knight of Letzel.

 **Part two:**

 **6.** Soundless Voice/Proof of Life.

 **7.** Heartbeat Clocktower (I think... It's more based on the novel of Evillious Chronicle than the PV.)

 **8.** Story of Evil (Don't tell me you didn't know this? :v)

 **9.** Magical Mirror.

 _(One-liners)_

 **10.** _Boy of The End: Hansel_ (Again, it's more based on the novel than the PV itself, so it's understandable if you can't tell this...)

 **11.** _Night ∞ series._

 **12.** _Dolls._

 **13.** _69_ (The PV actually has nothing to do with, um, adult content XD)

 **14.** _The Apocalypse 13rd._

 **15.** _Prisoner/Paper planes._

 **16.** _Girl and Boy series._

 **17.** _Kaito ga Uninstall._

 **18.** _Purgatory and the Canary Girl._

 **19.** Prisoner of Love and Desire (I spent _three freaking months_ to write this part, and one to write the rest of this story... The struggle is REAL. All because _a certain someone_ said she liked this song~)

 **20.** Crimson and White Spider Lily Song.

 **21.** Kagerou Project.

So. Done. I'm gonna miss this, you know...

Who am I kidding I WILL PERSONALLY KISS THIS GOODBYE MYSELF AND LET IT GO OFF TO THE UNKNOWN BYE XD

.

 **Remember to leave me a review~ About anything, really: If I should cut this more, is I should change anything, hmmm. I won't bite. Well, unless you ask me to, then it's a different story XD**

.

Oh wait, leave me a review first. Then you can go XD **Review** it, ladies (and gentlemen too~ XD)


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